Life's Carousel
by Hymntanra
Summary: Receiving seventeen years worth of memories along with memories of what he lost isn't entirely cheerful to Jack. Sometimes, a person needs some tough love to move on from the past. Implied Jackrabbit, pre-slash.


"_Depression is the flaw in love. To be creatures who love, we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose, and depression is the mechanism of that despair. _

Life's Carousel

It was hard, really, to be so suddenly stricken with an entire human's life worth of memories. Granted, Jack's life had not been a long one—only seventeen years—but he hadn't remembered a lick of it. Having it all back in one fell swoop was intense and difficult to absorb. All these thoughts, of old friends and old enemies and _family_…these were overwhelming feelings. While battling against Pitch, the boy had shoved the thoughts to the back of his head. It had been an easy task to forget while trying to keep oneself alive. But once it was all over, the silver haired teen was smacked in the face by reality.

It was the simple reality that he had gone three hundred years without a single thought towards his obviously now dead family—and all at once, Jack Frost was bombarded with an intense feeling of complete and utter loss. He could see them in his mind clearly now…a mother, father, and a nervous little girl no older than seven. The spirit of course didn't REGRET what he had done. He knew he had done the right thing to save the innocent, nervous little child who was shaking fearfully on the ice.

i_But what could it have been if we hadn't been there at all?/i _

It was a question Jack really could not find an answer for. He had taken to sitting up on a spire of North's workshop; the jubilant elder had left the boy to be. It was hard to force himself to do that, of course; Jack looked incredibly sad up there, perched on the very tip of the spire with his hands held in front of him. He clutched that staff so tightly, like it meant the world to him. But North was familiar with the behavior patterns of teens and children; Jack would not react well to any form of intervention. He would find a reason to get mad, because he was young and unpredictable.

It was best, North decided, to give the boy time to mourn his losses.

It got out of hand, though. Jack went on for several months; true, he would break out and spread snow across the world and indulge the children in their joy…but he seemed to be doing it more as a task and less as play. It was a bit concerning that the Guardian of Fun didn't exactly seem to be enjoying himself. And none of them could really figure out why. After three months of waiting, North decided to call the other three in.

Luckily, they had all noticed too.

"I'm concerned." Toothiana said, voice quiet. "And I'm afraid to admit that I suspected this might happen. For Jack to be missing all his memories…it was bound to be a serious shock when they all hit him in the face. Especially considering the contents. He obviously lost a lot…it's sad, really, to see a young teenage boy lose everything so quickly."

"Facts are facts, shiela." Bunnymund interrupted sharply. "It hurts him, but he can't go on like this. We can't LET him go on like this. Whether it's going to kick him in the bum or not, he's a Guardian. He can't run around depressed and mourning for the rest of time because he has a job. He has to help us take care of the ankle biters. We can't let him turn into a little dredger, after all."

Toothiana gave him a confused look, but shook it off. "Well, I don't know what to do. North, have you tried to talk to him?"

"Talk to him? Of course I have." North replied with a heavy sigh. "But boy does not want to speak about it. He does not respond to just 'talking about'. Boy wants us to believe that nothing is wrong."

"Well, it's apparent that there IS something wrong." Bunnymund said in annoyance. Sandy pulled at the rabbit's paw lightly. "What? What is it?"

The small creature formed a sand heart above his head, which promptly broke in two. It turned into an arrow that jotted up towards Bunnymund. The rabbit gave him an incredulous look and Sandy's face curled up in aggravation. Toothiana flew over and grabbed him by the shoulders, smiling weakly.

"He's saying that we shouldn't coddle him." Toothiana said quietly. "That he doesn't need someone to tell him that it's all going to be alright and that nothing is wrong. Because Jack doesn't believe that. What he's saying is that Jack needs some tough love. I…can't say what I make of that course of action, honestly."

"Not too shocked by that one, shiela." Bunnymund grunted. Toothiana had an immensely big heart, and the idea of hurting someone to help them was probably well beyond her mindset. Bunnymund understood, though, and he considered that it might be a logical solution. And Toothiana, North, and Sandy wouldn't provide it. Well, Sandy could, but none of them were quite sure if Jack would be able to get the full message. With a groan, Bunnymund slung his boomerang across his shoulders and headed for the spire entrance.

"What are you doing, Bunnymund?" Toothiana asked nervously, fluttering up behind him. The rabbit swatted her away lightly and she frowned. "Bunnymund…"

"I'm doin' what the Sandman said. Spare me the earbashing, alright?" Bunnymund grunted. Toothiana huffed slightly, but buzzed backwards slightly. As the rabbit disappeared upwards into the spire, she turned to North. The man shrugged.

"Bunny is right. Is for best."

Toothiana groaned.

Jack, meanwhile, sat on his usual perch on the top of the roof. His eyes, slightly glossed over, stared out into the approaching snowstorm. Lightly, he went to tap his staff against the red roofing; he wished to egg on the storm, and intensify it. Just for a bit of a picker upper, really. But the sound of footsteps in the lower room stopped him; a few seconds later, the latch that separated the room from the roof swung open.

Jack's mouth twitched upwards slightly. "Hey, Kangaroo."

"Knock that shit off." Bunnymund grimaced; as he had expected, it was bloody freezing on the roof. "Frostbite."

"Ha ha…I always did like that nickname, you know." The boy prodded. It was so very difficult to figure out his mood; the spirit kept a slight smirk on his arrogant face. But it was faltering, and Bunnymund could tell; there was that oh-so-obvious trace of loss and confusion in the teen's eyes. The rabbit groaned and hoisted himself up onto the roof. "You going so willingly into the cold? What's the occasion?"

"I've been instructed to have a little chit-chat with you, Frostbite." Bunnymund replied. His answer was vague, but Jack already knew what he was talking about. Immediately, the teen braced himself to jump into the sky but a paw around his leg jerked him back down. Jack glared at the rabbit. It would have been a pathetic sight if the rabbit didn't know the teen was entirely capable of blowing any of the Guardians away if he felt it was necessary. But Bunnymund also wasn't dumb; he knew Jack wouldn't do that to any of them. It was made even more evident as the ankle in his paw relaxed slightly; the boy was not going to run.

Bunnymund hadn't figured he really would, anyways; the boy was brave and stubborn. One of the few things the rabbit actually admired about the boy…alright, there were several admirable traits the teen possessed despite his arrogance. And it was hard to take that into account when the spirit's face so visibly softened into an expression of defeat. Jack had given up rather easily.

He was worn out.

The boy didn't speak much for the duration of the conversation; he knew what the rabbit was getting to with the idle conversation, that he was just easing Jack into the true confrontation. Frankly, Jack was surprised with himself for not jumping away. He supposed he couldn't. If it had been North or Toothiana, he probably would have. He couldn't have dealt with the behavior they'd take towards this. Jack didn't dislike them, and he knew they meant well, but they just couldn't help him with this sort of thing.

Although he wasn't sure why he thought Bunnymund would.

Perhaps it was his gruff nature, or his habit of treating Jack less like a child and more like an adult. As much as he teased and tormented the rabbit, Jack admitted that he held a bit of a soft spot for the other creature. He held his affection, and displayed it in the way that he was best at displaying it; showing off and mocking. It was childish, and Jack knew they'd get nowhere with it, but it was pretty much all he could do at the moment. He was quite sure that the affections weren't returned…so he would just sit there and listen quietly for once.

It was a bit of a rare treat for Jack to shut up and listen to the rabbit, honestly, and Bunnymund was shocked by it; there clearly WAS something wrong with the ice spirit. The rabbit groaned—it was time to ease Jack into the main point of the conversation. So if there wasn't something wrong with him now, there certainly would be in a minute. But before he could begin, Jack interrupted him.

"I know why they asked you to come up here, you know."

"Oh, do you now?" Bunnymund replied. Jack looked at the rabbit out of the corner of his bright blue eyes; the expression was clearly asking if the rabbit really thought the boy was stupid enough to have not figured it out. "…I suppose it was a given, now wasn't it."

"Mmhmm. I know…I know that they've been worrying really badly about me. But it's hard to talk to them about it, you know? I know that they've probably experienced loss too but I know that they'll just tell me that it'll be alright." Jack sighed. "And right now, it's kind of hard to think that it's going to be alright."

"Well, it's never going to be alright if you just sit here being mad at yourself and depressed." Bunnymund pointed out. Jack sent the rabbit a short stare, then looked back to the approaching blizzard. He didn't have much to say today. "A'right, kid, look. I ain't gonna tell you that it's gonna be alright because I know for damn sure that it won't be. Y'don't get over loss in a snap of a finger."

"Mmh…" Jack replied non-committedly.

"Actually, it's somethin' that stays with you for your whole life." The Aussie leaned back a bit and stared out across the cold snowy landscape. "But you know, you can be pissy for the whole run of your life about it…or you can live with it and figure out that there are still people to care about you. Y'know all the Guardians care about you, though God only knows why. So let me put it in this way, Jack…you can either spent the rest of your life pissing and moaning over what you lost, or live in the present and acknowledging that the people you know NOW care about you too. While still acknowledging that the people in the past cared about you, of course."

"You don't understand." Jack muttered, biting his lip.

"Oh, you got a lot comin' to you if you don't think I understand, Frostbite." Bunnymund said dangerously. Jack looked up, curiously. "Boy, my entire species is dead. I'm the last one. Last of this race you probably ain't heard of, called a Pooka."

Jack searched his memory; the term sounded familiar. "So…there's no more of you?"

"Not a single. You understand? Kid, you ain't the only one who has suffered from loss. EVERYONE has, and everyone does at some point." Bunnymund said seriously. "The difference is, we learned to move past it. And Jack, you need to learn how to move past it all too. No matter how much of a bitch it might be to do so."

"…It's Jack now, huh." The boy murmured quietly; his words were almost lost in the wind but Bunnymund barely caught them. "…Again."

"What?"

"My name."

"Jack."

"…Mmh." Jack raised his head and closed his eyes, letting the cold wind brush across his snow white skin. The hoodie over his silver head fell back on his shoulders and he smiled weakly. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what."

"Maybe…?" Jack looked at him curiously, and smiled widely. "Maybe something. Maybe you'll see eventually, eh, MATE?"  
"Don't screw with me, Frost."

"Jack."

"…Don't screw with me, Jack."

The boy pushed away from the roof to hover in the icy air; his eyes had returned to their usual mischievous appearance as they sparkled in amusement. Bunnymund couldn't help himself, really; he grinned back as the boy began to cast snow about the workshop. More importantly, it looked like his upset had fled him.

But at the side of his waist, always there, was the golden canister of his memories.

Both could co-exist, the spirit supposed.


End file.
